under pressure

  • until you don't have anymore to give every word you write is just taking up space lets take this journal for example where is this going? when i am 34 years old, i highly doubt there will even be a songmeanings.net so unless i find a safe place to save this everything eventually will just be blacked out as if all the hours i spent typing never existed in the first place i struggle with the pointlessness of the human condition, the way we work so hard for today and tomorrow, even though we're all heading to the same drop off in the end what does it mean to live purposefully? if anyone knows, please fill me in i often don't like being with other people because the nature of the conversation is almost always just empty nobody likes to talk for real we talk about shoes and tests and desk lights, hours and hours of making noise, avoiding aloneness i like to watch movies im not sure if thats worse or better i feel like everything we could possibly do is simply an avoidance strategy we refuse to admit that we are unspecial so we create these lives with all these subsets and expect people to care how we fill them with stuff and time and space theres no reason to stop but i just feel done perhaps tomorow ill be singing something sweeter
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